Keenan didn=t have to do a thing to make Chan regret what he just said.  Keenan simply looked at Chan as though he were a slimy, unidentifiable substance wedged into the tread of his  Nike sneakers.

 

AI can=t, Keenan.  I=m sorry.  I just can=t,@ Chan said.  AWhat if something goes wrong?  I mean, one of us could get shot.@

 

Two big black hands enveloped Chan=s shoulders, and Keenan pulled him into a fierce bear hug.  A couple of Chan=s vertebrae popped.  Chan could smell the acrid residue of Keenan=s last cigarette.

 

Locked together, Keenan whispered in Chan=s ear.  ANobody backs out now.  Do ya hear me?  We go ahead as planned.  There=s nobody gonna get shot, unless you ain=t there when I come to get ya.  Then I=s gonna shoot you myself.  Get it?@  He shoved Chan away and stalked off down the hall without an answer. 

 

Other than that, it was a normal day for Chan.  He got out of bed early and practiced some arpeggios on his guitar.  He couldn=t seem to hit any of them right, for some reason.  His mom came in to wake him at the normal time, and seeing him already up, had to touch his shoulder to get his attention out from under the noise-cancelling, Sony headphones he had plugged in.  Before he knew it, he was in school, going to the normal classes, sluffing those he knew were a waste.  It was not as though he needed to go to class.  He was well-above the average-student, although he would never tell his friends that.

 

Before he had his run-in with Keenan, Chan had seen Justin in biology.  Jouncing his legs and twitching his forehead, Justin told Chan he couldn=t wait to be rich.  The teacher suggested they pay attention.  When class was over, Chan slipped out quickly while Justin was distracted by Hilary Barnes.  Chan only hoped he wasn=t telling her he was going to be rich.

 

Other than that, it was a normal day at school.  Except for maybe the time when Chan saw Lee at the far end of the east hallway.  The two of them didn=t say anything across the distance.  They didn=t even nod, or lift a peace sign in greeting.  There was a momentary eye contact in which Lee communicated his fear, and seemed on the verge of tears, but then he walked away, and Chan went to math.

 

AI saw you and Keenan hugging in the hall earlier.@  Janica told him as he sat down in math class.

 

AYeah.  So?@  Chan shrugged.

 

ANothing.  I just think it=s cool when guys can be close friends without worrying about gay cracks.  I mean, girls can do it; why can=t guys?@

 

AYeah.@

 

AYou and Keenan must be real good friends.@

 

After math, Chan met his girlfriend for lunch.  She asked him what was wrong six different ways before he started joshing her about her beads to change the subject.  He had never met another Native girl so sensitive about beaded jewelry before.  For that matter, other than Skye, he didn=t know a single Native who even wore any.  Eventually, she called him an ass and told him he could eat alone.

 

Besides each of these awkward moments, it was an average day for Chan.  Predictably, Mr. Bills asked Chan if he had heard back from any colleges yet.

 

ANo letters, yet,@ Chan said.

 

ASoon, though,@ Mr. Bills said.  AThey=re bound to fight over you.@

 

AI suppose.@

 

ADon=t worry, Chan.  You=ll hear from them soon.@

 

Choir was interesting.  With Keenan in the bass section, and Chan in the tenor.   Chan tried to ignore his friend, but Keenan kept glancing his way with a raised brow as though daring him to say anything.

 

After school, Chan drove out to his father=s restaurant.  He was first going to sneak in through the back door, but he could hear his parents arguing in Cantonese, so he went around the front.  Chan always pretended to have no idea what they were saying, although he caught a lot of words here and there.  His parents seemed to like the arrangement as much as he did.

 

Slipping into the dishroom, Chan put on an apron and a paper hat, and started hosing down the dishes from the lunch rush.  Lo mein noodles, and coagulated bits of sweet-and-sour sauce rushed down the drain.  Overall, it was a normal day.

 

AThere is letters for you.@  Chan=s mom had come into the dishroom.  She wrung her hands on her black server=s apron.  AYou father mad.  >Why all colleges on east coast?= he say.  >What wrong with Colorado State?=@

 

AAll the good schools are back east, Ma.@

 

AYou better go talk to you father.@  Chan shoved his last rack of plates into the Hobart and dried his hands.

 

In the office, his father was counting out one dollar bills for the cash drawer, but he slapped a wad of bills on the desk and stood as chan entered.  AYou better start explaining yourself@ he said as he pointed to three envelopes on the desk between them.  Two of them were plain-sized security envelopes.  The other was a thick manila package.  Chan quickly surmised them as two rejection letters and an acceptance packet.  He snatched up the large envelope, quickly reading the return address as Dartmouth College.  He ripped open the seal.

 

ACongratulations, Chan,@ the cover letter stated.  ALet me be the first to welcome you to the world of higher education at Dartmouth College.@

 

Chan sat down hard in the office chair where various employees received chastisement or their reviews.  AI=m going Ivy League, Dad.@

 

AYou=re not going anywhere but Colorado State,@ his father told him.

 

AIvy League, Dad.  Dartmouth!   I=ve been waiting for this forever.@

 

AI cannot afford out-of-state tuition.@

 

ADad, I=m second generation Chinese-American by you, first by mom.  They=ll be throwing money at me.@

 

AHow much?  It won=t be enough.  Not for this school.  I can=t afford to lose the restaurant for you to go to a school in the east.  Where you going to get the money?@

 

AWe could rob a bank,@ Chan joked.  His father didn=t smile.  Instead, his old man crossed his arms and squinted down at Chan over the rims of his glasses.

 

ACrime will get you killed.@

 

ADad, I was joking.@

 

AI=m not.  Crime will get you killed.  Do you think I don=t know the kinds of friends you have?@

 

Chan had a moment of doubt that his dad knew his plans for that night, but he shook it off as ridiculous.  AAll the more reason to let me go to Dartmouth.  Get me away from all the bad influences of Pueblo.@ 

 

AYou=re not going.@

 

ADadC@

 

AYou=re not.  Now, go clean dishes.  The dinner rush will be hitting any time now.@

 

Chan might have broke a dish or two accidentally that night.  He might have broken a dish or two intentionally.  All the same, at seven Caleb came in, and Chan went home to do his homework.  Which he didn=t do much of.  Instead, he tried to read through the paperwork in the Dartmouth packet, but for some reason, he would read and reread a section, but have no idea what it said.  Then he plunked on his guitar, but couldn=t get the fingerings right and got frustrated.  What right did his father have to tell him where he could and couldn=t go to school?  Chan was old enough to make his own decisions.  If only he could secure enough money to cover the coset without needing anything from his father.  Then the old man couldn=t say a damn thing about it.  All Chan needed was money.  As soon as he realized this, Keenan called.

 

AMidnight.@  Chan could hear him sucking air through a cigarette.

 

AOkay.@

 

ABring your dad=s gun.@

 

AOkay.@  The line went dead in Chan=s ear.  He was still holding it a moment later when it pulsed out a dial tone.  He hung up, then tiptoed down the hallway to his parents= bedroom.  Why he tiptoed when nobody was home, he wasn=t sure, but he did it anyway.  His folks were still at the restaurant.  They wouldn=t be home until eleven.  Chan slipped open his dad=s sock drawer and could see the shiny handle of the Colt.

 

A crazy thought occurred to him, then.  What if his dad checked to make sure the gun was there before going to bed?  If it was missing, Chan would be a dead man.  He decided to swipe the gun after his parents were asleep.  So, he finished loading the dishwasher, and started it, turned off all the lights in the house, made sure the doors were all locked; then, fully dressed, he slipped into bed, and waited for his parents to get home and do the same.

 

All he needed was a little money.  If everything worked out, he=d be going to Dartmouth.

 

 

Situated on the corner of a busy intersection was a McDonald=s.  Interspersed among several other fast food chains, it displayed a brilliant red and yellow sign of giant golden arches that spun arrogantly above the street corner.  It was a little after one in the morning, but business was still good.  The drive-thru was open until 2am, and despite the fact the lobby was locked, the place still averaged a couple hundred dollars an hour.  There were only two people inside: Lee and his manager.  Lee took orders and made change, while his manager assembled the food.  It was a typical routine for the two of them, speaking very little, going about their business.  However that night was different for Lee.  His palms were sweaty; he dropped change.  After he spilled his fourth Coke, his manager shot him a worried frown, and Lee was certain he was caught.  But his manager went back to assembling burgers, and Lee took another order.The reason Lee was so nervous was outside in the parking lot.  A brown Lumina was parked outside a fair distance from the locked, glass door so as not to be immediately noticeable.  It wasn=t until the drive-thru closed and the manager went into the office to count and record the money that Lee was supposed to unlock the door.  There was still an hour to wait until then, and another half hour after that before the four people in the Lumina made their move.

 

Keenan sat in the driver=s seat.  He puffed away at his smokes as though each were his last.  A pile of cigarettes lay on the asphalt out side his window.  Some half-smoked, others completely debilitated except for the butt.  Another butt bounced on the ground with a minor spark.  The car lighter got pressed into the console again as Keenan pounded a fresh pack against his palm.  He riffled off the pull string.  The crinkle of plastic wrap was loud in the silence.

 

AHow many of those you gonna smoke, man?@  Justin asked from the passenger seat.

 

Keenan crumpled the plastic in his hand.  It too joined the pile of butts on the ground.  AAs many as it takes,@ he answered just before popping another in his mouth.  The lighter snapped out of the dash.  The orange glow of the coils diminished rapidly as he held it to the end of his cigarette.  Keenan inhaled.  Justin sighed.  Silence hung in the air with the wisps of cigarette smoke.

 

In the back seat, Chan lifted himself up to pull his father=s revolver from the back of his jeans.  He had swiped the Colt from the old man=s sock drawer just as Keenan had honked from the driveway.  First, he had made certain his parents were asleep.  Then, he slid open the drawer.  In the darkness, he could no longer see the handle through the vague lumps of white socks, but he knew what he was looking at.

 

Not for the first time, Chan changed his mind.  There was no way he was going to go through with it.  Not a chance.  He had already been accepted to Dartmouth.  He was certain he was going to get some financial aid.  A little bit more money wasn=t going to be worth the risk.  Chan had nearly convinced himself not to go when the brilliant light of a car pulling into the driveway swept across the bedroom.  His father muttered in his sleep and rolled over.  The horn blasted once, twice.  Chan, had a sinking sensation that his father would wake up and find him standing over the bed with his hand in the sock drawer.  He didn=t want to have to deal with that if it happened.  So, instinctively, Chan swiped the gun and dashed out of the room.

 

Now, Chan found himself in the back seat of Keenan=s Lumina, where he popped the chamber open of his father=s Colt for the tenth time.  The first time he opened it, he had removed the bullets.  There was no sense in keeping it loaded until the time came.

 

AI don=t think the bullets are gonna magically appear, Chan,@ Cory chided.

 

Chan closed the chamber and laid the weapon on the seat between them.  ANo shit.@

 

AHow many times are you gonna look, anyway?@

 

AYeah, fine,@ Chan said.  AYou always gotta be a dick?@

 

AI mean, you gotta load the gun, then there will be bullets in it.@

 

AI=m sorry.  I won=t open it again.@

 

AYou just can=t expectC@

 

ALeave him alone,@ Keenan said, ending Cory=s badgering.  For once, Chan was grateful for Keenan=s commanding presence.

 

Keenan took another long drag.  The four of them sat there: waiting.  Chan found it slightly amusing that he had spent the majority of his life waiting.  Everybody he knew was always waiting for something.  But he found it only slightly amusing.  Another minute shot out the barrel of time.

 

ACan we at least listen to the radio?@  Justin asked.

 

ANo,@ was Keenan=s answer.

 

They waited.  Keenan lit another smoke.  Chan stared at the Colt.  His fingers twitched to pick it up again, but he was not about to give Cory another opportunity to ridicule.  Cory stared out his window, the breath from his nose misted in two wide streams on the glass.  Justin bounced his right leg causing the whole car to shake slightly.  ACan I have one of those?@  He asked Keenan.

 

AYou don=t smoke,@ was the answer.  Nothing more was said about it.

 

AWhat time is it?@ Justin asked.  Nobody answered him.  The clock on the dash displayed 1:12.

 

AThere=s a cop car over there,@ Cory said.

 

AWhere?@ Asked Keenan.  All of them looked to see where Cory was looking.

 

AAcross the street.  In that used car lot.@

 

AThat=s just a security guard car,@ Keenan said.

 

AYou sure?@

 

AYep.  Been sitting there all this time.  A real cop would=ve had to move it by now. Probably ain=t nobody in it.  Used to scare away would be car thieves.@

 

ALooks authentic to me.@

 

AIt ain=t.@

 

AYou sure?@

 

AYou wanna ask me that again,@ Keenan threatened, throwing a glare back at Cory.  AI said it ain=t.@

 

AAlright, alright.  Sorry.  Shit.@

 

Either the barrel of time had a silencer, or was jammed.  Minutes seemed to fire reluctantly from it.

 

AHow about we get some food,@ Justin said.  AWe could go through the drive-thru and talk to Lee, make sure he knows what to do.@

 

ALee knows what to do,@ Keenan said.

 

AYeah, but maybe we could double check.  You know, rendezvous?  It can=t hurt to go over the plan again.@

 

AOh, come on,@  Cory said.  AWhat are you, stupid?@

 

ANot just that,@ said Keenan, Abut if we get you a burger, we=d be givin= money to the very people we=s here to steal from.@

 

AYeah, but then we=d get the money back,@ Justin reasoned.

 

AAnd that would be stealing from ourselves, wouldn=t it?@ Keenan said.  AWhat=s the point of that?@

 

ADamn.  Sorry I brought it up,@ Justin conceded.  AWe could at least talk, though?  The silence is killing me.@

 

AThen talk,@ Keenan told him, and Cory jibed, AYou can=t keep your damn mouth shut anyway.@

 

AMaybe I don=t wanna, huh?@  Justin threw back.  AI wanna know what you=re all gonna do with your Bens.@  Nobody answered.  AKeenan?@  He prompted, but the man just smoked.  AChan?@  Chan shook his head.  ACory?@  Cory rolled his eyes and sighed.  AWell I know what I=m gonna do,@ Just went on.  AI=m gonna go to Hollywood.  Movies, man.  I=m going to be a star.  You wait, ten years from now I=ll be one of the highest paid actors in the world.  I=ll be in more movies than anyone ever has.  I=ll be in like a thousand movies before I die, and I=ll win like a hundred Oscars.  Everybody in the world will know who I am.  That=s all I want.  Just a little fame.  A little fortune.  Who=s with me?@

 

AI dunno about Hollywood,@ Cory said.  AThat place is nuts.  Nobody ever cares who you are in Hollywood.  Do you know why?  Because everybody in Hollywood is already somebody.  That makes you the same as everybody else.  They=re all the same out there.@

 

ANo, man, not me.  I=m gonna be huge.  Bigger than the rest.  More money.  More fame.  More respect.  More power.@  Justin counted out the qualities on his fingers.  AYou name it, I=ll have it.@

 

AI dunno, bro,@ Cory said.  AI think it=s impossible to make it out there unless you=re born in it, you know?@

 

AThen what are you going to do, Cory?@ Justin said.  ABlow it all on video games?@

ASo, what=s this goal?@ Justin interceded as Cory trailed off.

AI dunno,@ Cory said.  ABe a millionaire?  That way I don=t ever have to work.@

AAnd you can spend your life playing video games?@ Justin shot.

AYeah,@ Cory said, Amaybe.  But as for the rest of my money, I=m gonna go to Vegas.@

AYou=re not old enough,@ Chan said.

AThat=s what fake ID=s are for, bro,@ Cory explained.  ABesides, what good is a couple of grand from one Mickey-D=s?  It won=t last forever, will it?  You gotta have a lot of money or you=re nobody.  I=m gonna go to Vegas with my share.  I=ll come back a millionaire.  You=ll see, Chan, Justin.  Oh, wait.  Sorry, Justin.  You won=t see.  You=ll be living in a box in L.A.  I hope you like the smell of cardboard.@

AWhatever, man,@ Justin said.  AI=ll be so famous I=ll have Megan Fox on one arm and Natalie Portman on the other.  Just you wait.@

 

AYeah right.@

 

AIt=ll happen, man.  Want something bad enough and you=ll get it.  Who wouldn=t want that?@

 

AI don=t,@ Cory said.

 

ADon=t lie to me.  I know you better than that.  Any guy would want that.  Right, Chan?@

 

AMaybe.@

 

AMaybe.  Maybe ain=t good enough.  Come on, Chan,@ Justin prodded, Awhat you gonna do with your share?  Invest in your daddy=s restaurant?  You gonna work there forever?@

 

ANo.@

 

ARight then.  So what are you gonna do?@

 

AI don=t know@

 

ANot good enough,@ Justin chided. AThere=s got be something, right?  You=re like me.  You want a billion dollar house and a supermodel party by the pool every weekend.  So what are you gonna do with your Bens?@

 

Chan knew if he told them he wanted to go to college he would never hear the end of it.  AI dunno,@ he said, Astart a band?  I=ve always wanted to be a rock star.@

 

AYou=re kidding?@ Justin scoffed.  ACan you even play the guitar, Chan?  I mean, do you know how?  Can you sing?  I=ve never heard you sing?@

 

AHe can sing,@ Keenan piped in.  AHe=s in choir.@

 

AAnd I own a Fender Mustang,@ Chan said. 

 

ANo shit.  You do?@  Cory asked.

 

AReally?@  Justin said.

 

AYeah.  Bought it off eBay.@

 

AWow.  Awesome.  Alright then,@  Justin went on, AChan the rock star, Cory the millionaire, Justin the movie star.  What about you Keenan?  What do you want?  What=s your share gonna get you?@  Keenan turned his head slowly to stare at Justin.  He lit another smoke from the heat of his previous one.  AOh, come on, man,@ Justin moaned.  AThe rest of us answered.  What are you gonna do?@

 

AI=s gonna start my own internet porn site,@ Keenan said.  AChicks are stupid; they=ll do anythin= for money.  With enough Bens, I could get any one of em to have sex with me.  All the money I want, and more pussy than I need.  Can=t get much better then that.@  He took another long drag as silence crept back into their ears.  They were all taken back by Keenan=s plans, but couldn=t say way.  Not another word was said until Lee came to the door to unlock it.  Even then the only words spoke were, AThere=s Lee,@ by Cory.  Chan picked up his father=s Colt and stuffed it into his belt.  Cory popped his knuckles.  Justin started chewing his nails.  Keenan smoked.  They all waited.

 

Thirty minutes later, Keenan put out his last cigarette on the frame of his window.  ALet=s go,@ he said, pulling a ski mask over his head.  The rest of them followed his lead with their ski masks, and as one they all got out of the car.  Keenan pulled a sawed-off shot gun out from beside the driver=s seat and took the lead.  The rest of them fell in line.  Chan came at the end, waiting for the moment he would turn and run away.  Though the others all had their guns in had, Chan still had his father=s Colt stuffed in the back of his jeans.  It was a cold hard reminder of his father=s voice.  ADo you think I don=t know the kinds of friends you have?@

 

Chan watched these so-called friends enter one by one into the glass and steal casing of McDonald=s.  He stopped just outside the door, one foot on the asphalt, the other on the concrete.  He tried to will himself to run, but was mesmerized as the car across the street, the car Keenan said was a security guard car, shot to life.  Its lights suddenly ablaze as it sped across the street toward him.  Tires squealed as a red pickup swerved to miss a collision with the cop.  The cop shot straight into the McDonald=s parking lot and squealed to a stop himself. 

 

Blood thundered in Chan=s ears, and he willed himself to run, but didn=t move.  He noticed smoke rising from the cop car=s tires.  And he reached to the back of his pants for his father=s Colt.

 

The driver-side door of the cop car open and the officer jumped out.  Shielding himself between the car and the door, the cop pulled his gun and pointed it at Chan, telling him to get down on the ground.  When Chan raised his father gun, the cop didn=t even hesitate to fire.  Chan didn=t blame him at all.

 

But there was something ridiculously funny to Chan as the Colt snapped mechanically in his hand.  It was overly hilarious to him that he ever followed Keenan in the first place; absurdly comical that he would have the audacity to point a gun at a police officer; and, to top it all off, the chamber was empty, and would not have saved him anyway.  All this flashed through Chan=s mind as he pulled the gun and squeezed the trigger, and he found it so funny that he doubled over in humor. 

 

Had it not been so hysterical, the cop=s shot would have hit him in the arm, disabling him.  But the humor was so great that Chan=s movement put his head in the way of the bullet which claimed the right side of his head, shredded his mask, removed his ear, and opened his jugular, lodging itself in his neck and stemming some of the blood flow.

 

He did not die instantly, but oddly he felt no pain.  He lay on the concrete by the door to McDonald=s while blue, red and white lights danced around him.  As he lay there he began to wonder why he had ever agreed to rob a McDonald=s in the first place.  It had seemed like such a good idea when they first started joking about it.  He wondered why he never took guitar lessons, insisted on teaching himself, but never had anybody listen to him play.  He wondered why he went to karaoke at Mandy=s Grille every Tuesday night, but never sang.  He wondered why Skye Smallbear had ever liked him, especially since he always teased her about her Native eccentricities.  And why he felt he had to hide from his friends that he was smart and wanted to go to college.  Or why he had never told his dad that everybody thought his restaurant was the best Chinese food in town.  For that matter, he wondered if he had ever told his father that he loved him.